


If You Hate Your Friends, You're Not Alone

by NeoVenus22



Category: Sanctuary (webseries)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-26
Updated: 2009-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-05 07:12:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will didn't think he merited an investigation, yet one day he comes home to find Detective Kavanaugh in his apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Hate Your Friends, You're Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Taking place somewhere between webisodes 4 and 5.

"Three weeks. You don't write, you don't call?"

"The hell?" spluttered Will with a start. It had been an extremely long day at work, one that had involved struggling his way through some demented merperson sign language. His head was throbbing a little, and a beer-bed one-two punch had sounded like the best damn thing in the world ten seconds ago, when he'd been shoving his key in the door.

And then he'd found Detective Joe Kavanaugh sitting on his couch.

"Crap, Kavanaugh, what are you doing here? How'd you get in?"

Kavanaugh hefted a shoulder. Bastard had the audacity to be holding one of Will's own beers in his hand. "Flashed my badge around with your landlord."

"Do you _want_ me to get evicted?"

"Rumor has it you've got other digs. And that you've taken an extended leave of absence from the hospital."

"Are you checking up on me now, Joe? I'm flattered."

Kavanaugh sat up, clattered his bottle down on the coffee table (no coaster, not that Will was picky, but he knew Kavanaugh was doing it on purpose), and all traces of amusement were completely gone. "What the hell's going on, Zimmerman?"

"I've got another job." Will crossed his arms over his chest, wishing he had something to do, wishing he didn't suddenly feel like an unwelcome stranger in his own apartment.

"You left two cases with open-ended paperwork. People are starting to get a little pissy."

"Hey, I signed those off to another doc. If they didn't get finished, that's not my fault." Will tried to remember which cases they were, which doctor, but his head was still swimming from an exhaustive day's work. Dammit.

"Just thought I'd check up." Kavanaugh settled back on Will's couch, arm slung casually over the back, the perfect image of a friendly, laid-back guy, were it not for the hawk-like expression in his eyes.

"Well, that's sweet, but I've got a mother for that. She calls on Sundays, if you feel like talking to her."

"What, am I your boyfriend now?"

"I dunno, Kavanaugh," snapped Will, finally losing it. "You break into my apartment, eat all my food... You're either a boyfriend or a stalker."

"I didn't touch your food. I drank your beer."

"Yes, thanks for making that distinction. I'm sorry."

"You seem angry."

"You flaunted your authority to get into my place. Is this an official investigation, or a just a run of the mill B&amp;E?"

"Don't try to use cop terms," Kavanaugh said with a lazy, shit-eating sort of grin. "You don't hear me throwing around doctor terms."

"You don't use words that are more than one syllable," said Will before he could stop himself, biting off the end of each word. Kavanaugh tensed for a fraction of a second, but shrugged in compliance. "Should I call a lawyer?" continued Will. "Did you bring a warrant?"

"I figured you'd prefer flowers, maybe some candy. Isn't that the way this usually works?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Joe." Although Will had to busy himself with shrugging out of the jacket he'd only just realized he was still wearing, and hanging it up so that Kavanaugh wouldn't see his reddening face.

"Does your captain know you're here?" Will asked the coat hook.

"Not unless he slipped a GPS tracker into my coffee this morning," was Kavanaugh's answer. "This isn't official business."

With weary resignation, Will turned to face his intruder once more. "Seriously, Joe, what are you doing here?"

"I'm not shitting you, Zimmerman, I want to know where the hell you've been."

"Why do you care?"

"Maybe I like having your brain to pick."

"Maybe you just like picking on my career." Will's head was starting to throb again. Steve liked to listen to techno during his workouts, and the inescapable beat had managed to lodge itself in Will's brain. Kavanaugh was more than welcome to pick that out if he wanted.

"Look, by all accounts, you've disappeared suddenly and unexpectedly. I'm sure you can see where that might be cause for concern."

"Maybe for the triage nurses, but not you."

"All right. Honestly? I'm starting to suspect there's some weird shit going down. First the Tolson thing, then you wander off a day later." Kavanaugh drummed his fingers on his beer and eyed Will critically. "Tell me the truth."

"What truth? I have a new job." All right, it was really more of a partial truth, but Kavanaugh didn't know the difference.

Or maybe he did. "Where? Doing what?"

"The same 'psychiatric bullshit' as always. Except now I'm keeping the bullshit far away from you. I'm expecting you'll start jumping for joy any time now." Not that Will's ego could have particularly used the slam, especially after the day he'd had, but a smug and snarky Kavanaugh was better than a sullen and suspicious one.

To Will's frustration, Kavanaugh remained sullen and suspicious.

"What's the matter? Lonely?" Will had been taunting Kavanaugh, but he suddenly realized he'd hit the nail on the head.

Kavanaugh shrugged nearly imperceptibly. "The docs are much nicer now, you know," he said, raising an eyebrow as though making a point. "They do their jobs and don't give me shit."

"If they're actually listening to the knee-jerk non-diagnoses of some hothead with zero medical background, then they're not doing their jobs at all." Will narrowed his eyes. "Besides, free shit-dispensing was part of my contract."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," said Kavanaugh.

Will smirked. "Admit it, you miss me."

Kavanaugh scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Zimmerman."

"You didn't come all this way to ask questions you knew perfectly well you wouldn't get an answer to, did you?"

"I was hoping my menacing stare might inspire your cooperation. Or the gun."

"Ah, so that's how you've swayed the hospital staff to cater to your every whim."

"I have a certain amount of charm."

"Right, of course," said Will, slapping his forehead as though he'd merely forgotten this fact. "Give me a call when it starts working, will you?"

"I can see why none of your coworkers miss you."

"And yet you seem to." Maybe it was just because he was standing and Kavanaugh was occupying his couch (not that it mattered, Will still had significant height advantage working for him), but he felt as though the ball was finally in his court. "I'm working in a homeless refuge now," he said. Not entirely untrue, but the best the detective was going to get.

"I'd believe you more if you said you were working on a farm," said Kavanaugh. Will stared at him, not getting it. A wry smirk twisted his former coworker's face. "Because you're shoveling a lot of bullshit."

"Clever. Tell me, are mild insults a regular part of police academy training, or did you have to go to a special seminar to learn them?"

Kavanaugh actually laughed. "You know, this is why I almost like having you around, Zimmerman." He got to his feet relatively smoothly, but seemed to wobble for a half-second. "C'mon, we're going."

"I'm sorry, did you say 'we'?"

"Yeah. You're gonna buy me something to drink, and I'm gonna pump you for information."

Will's jaw might have slackened a bit at Kavanaugh's unfortunate choice of words. Then again, maybe he was the only one who found the statement both mildly threatening and considerably questionable. Maybe, as he was occasionally prone to doing, he was reading way too much into the whole scenario.

"Buy you something to drink?" echoed Will. "You mean raiding my fridge doesn't count?"

"Maybe if you didn't have weak piss masquerading as beer, we wouldn't have this problem." Kavanaugh stared Will down, daring him to challenge.

While he didn't think the problem was his choice in alcoholic beverages, but rather in the fact that a local homicide detective was entering his apartment at random, Will was thinking that after the day he'd had, weak piss probably wouldn't get the job done. "You broke into my apartment. You're buying."

"Fine by me. Maybe if I get you drunk enough, you'll tell me what I want to know."

Will hesitated for a second before reaching for his coat. Kavanaugh would no doubt... er, pump Will for information. He hadn't exactly signed any sort of non-disclosure agreement or anything, but he didn't think Dr. Magnus necessarily wanted him spreading all their secrets.

Then again, if Kavanaugh didn't believe in things like psychology, telling him about mermaids would like earn him laughter and a call to the loony bin. Maybe a drink or two, on Kavanaugh's dime, would get the guy off his back.

"All right, let's go," he said, sealing his fate for a second venture into the unknown.

Maybe he should think about taking the good doctor up on her offer of lodgings.


End file.
